Stripped Down
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Capsicoul prompt fill for the kink meme. Agent Coulson has a motorbike, and the Avengers want to see her. But it's Steve who gets the ride of his life. Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any other Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this.


"Stripped Down"

On the next screen, Tony stopped.

"Special skills include motorcycle riding," JARVIS read.

"See?" Clint said, pointing. "Told you."

"Yeah, but you were going on rumours," Tony said, scrolling further through Agent Coulson's SHIELD profile. They had to hurry before they were detected. "You've never seen him in action. Now we have proof."

"Only that it's a skill set," Bruce said, unwillingly caught up in the snooping. He was curled up on the end of the sofa with a book, and trying not to watch the others. Less of a chance to implicate himself. "It doesn't mean he has a bike."

"He does," Natasha said. "She's bright red, and her name is Lola."

"Seriously?" Tony said, looking over his shoulder. Clint scowled.

"How come you know that, and I don't?" he asked.

"Because I went to the trouble of asking him, and he told me," she said. She added smugly, "He even showed me pictures."

"He didn't."

"He did. I was fortunate enough to see one with him in it, in full biker leathers." With another smirk, she raised her magazine. "He looked _very_ nice."

"So, what'd it look like?" Steve said. Natasha raised an eyebrow, and he flushed. "The motorbike, I mean."

"Hmm. I think you should find out for yourself. Words can't do her justice. And what do I know about motorcycles?" It was said far too innocently. Thor chuckled.

"I look forward to seeing this Lola for myself," he said. "Surely Son of Coul will lodge her at the tower?"

"He hasn't officially moved in," Tony said, making a face. "Says he prefers where he already lives. He'll just leave some of his stuff here, in case."

"It's his prerogative," Bruce said. "Leave him alone, Tony. If you push him, he'll be more inclined to say 'no'."

Tony grinned. "Good point, Brucey. I'll play hard to get. Then he'll be begging to stay here."

"Or he'll just be relieved," Clint muttered. He poked Tony when a warning from SHIELD – personally addressed to them, and signed by Fury – appeared across Phil's profile. It disappeared a couple of seconds later, along with the screen.

"I apologise, sir," JARVIS said.

"Not your fault, buddy," Tony said. "Hey, can you rustle up some pictures of Lola for us?"

"I have been unable to find any, sir."

"Okay." Tony leaned on the table. "I guess we'll just have to… wait. Ugh, I _hate _that word."

* * *

><p>They didn't have to wait long. Only two days later – by coincidence, Phil's day off – they had to go into battle against AIM. Robots, all different colours, were climbing up buildings, scuttling down alleyways and over cars, and generally causing mayhem. The police were following up the possibility that it was a distraction, leaving the Avengers to handle it alone. The robots were more an annoyance than anything else; it was the sheer number of them that forced Fury to call in their handler.<p>

The first the Avengers knew of it was a motorcycle roaring into their midst, a bright red blur with a black-clad rider, gripping the handlebars with one hand, a revolver in the other. He swerved around debris, dodging flying machine parts, and taking out three robots every two seconds. It was almost distracting. He made tight turns around cars, drove up any available ramps to reach greater heights, almost soaring through the air on the way down. One second, he'd be gunning down a robot on the right. Next second, the weapon would be in the other hand while the rider went around a bend, out of sight, killing three or four machines on the way. Seconds later, he'd be visible again, flying over piles of rubble like a shooting star.

With his help, the battle was soon at an end. Police reported a major robbery taking place downtown… or, to be more accurate, formerly taking place. The NYPD had been able to take care of it while the Avengers dealt with the mechanical threat. Half of New York's media seemed to stream out of the buildings, and began to report on the proceedings.

"That was…" Steve ran out of words, awestruck as their mysterious helper pulled to a halt in front of them and began to remove his gloves. Natasha was the first one forward.

"Sorry about your day off," she said. The rider, voice muffled by the helmet, said something which made her laugh.

And then Steve noticed 'Lola' painted on the back end of the bike. Holy shit.

Decked out in leather and pulling off his helmet, Phil Coulson climbed off the red motorcycle, and stroked his hair back into place. He was panting a little, the quick movements emphasised by the tight material of his jacket, which he duly unzipped. A thin t-shirt did little to hide the muscles Steve had had no idea were beneath those suits.

"You can't even take out a few `bots without me?" Phil said, glancing at them all. He turned around to stow away his helmet and gloves, and Steve took the opportunity to stare at his backside. Geez, had it always been that well-formed? And since when did he start noticing these things about their handler? Ah, who cares. The point was, Phil was right in front of him, wearing leather trousers and jacket and probably not much else, and he'd shot down dozens of robots from the seat of his bike in the space of less than ten minutes. Conversation? Yeah, there was some conversation going on around him, but Steve had more important things on his mind. Like what Phil really looked like underneath those clothes…

"Say, be a bit more subtle, huh?" Clint whispered, poking Steve's arm. "Don't need the paparazzi thinking you get a hard-on from fighting."

"No," Steve said slowly. He watched as Phil met his gaze and blushed.

How far down did that blush go?

* * *

><p>Debriefing was torture. Steve was still hard as a rock, and hiding it behind his shield when he could. Phil didn't have time to change, and the creak of leather whenever he squirmed was a constant reminder – as if Steve needed one – of what he was wearing, and what he'd been doing on his day off.<p>

"Go wash up now," Phil said, signalling the end of the debrief. "We'll order something here, if you want."

The others had barely stood up when Steve was around the table and grabbing Phil by the arm. He began to drag him from the room, ignoring the wolf whistles and applause from his team-mates as he yanked Phil into the nearest bathroom.

"Uh, Captain Ro—"

Steve muffled him by crashing their mouths together, shoving Phil against the basin. He slid his hands up under the t-shirt, and moaned at the feel of hot skin stretched over unassuming muscles. Phil answered his moan, and pressed his hips forward, grinding them against Steve's. With a hiss, Steve pulled back.

"I want you," he said bluntly. "When Natasha told us about the picture you showed her, of you and Lola, I wanted to see it for myself. I tried to imagine it, but… it was much better than anything I imagined."

"You imagined…?"

"Yeah," Steve said, nodding. He fumbled with the buckle of Phil's belt, until he managed to undo it. Phil did his part and began to strip Steve out of his uniform. It was a mess of hands and lips on bodies, until they were both nude and stumbling into the comically large shower. Without looking, Steve reached for the knob, and turned it. Cold water immediately turned hot, shivers turned to shudders, and Phil pressed Steve against a cold, slippery wall.

"How long've you imagined this?" he asked.

"Not long," Steve confessed, his eyes slamming shut when Phil grasped him gently.

"And what about today? Did it live up to your expectations?"

"Mmm, and more." Steve's hips jerked. "Harder, Phil."

"What would you like, Steve?"

"Anything. You. Anything you want."

"If I wanted to take you? What would you do?"

Steve whined. "JARVIS? Got anything?"

"Always," JARVIS said dryly, and a drawer emerged from the wall of the shower. A few condoms and an unused bottle of lube lay inside. Steve grabbed the lubricant, stepped out of the flow of the shower, and smeared the oil over two of his fingers. He kept one foot on the ledge and began to stretch himself out. He noticed Phil finishing himself off.

"I'll last longer the second time," he explained, and he shut off the water. "Please, don't let me stop you." There was a wicked twinkle in his eye that Steve had never seen before. He liked it a lot.

"Tell me about your bike," he said, continuing to move his fingers. "I've never seen anything like her before."

Phil's face softened. "She's a stripped down and modified ex-police cruiser, what they called a SAINT. A Triumph Thunderbird. Only one SHIELD mechanic has the clearance to tune her up, and add any extra features. His name is Tony, strangely enough. That's how she got the name Lola." He shrugged. "It's a song reference."

"Uh-huh." Steve added a third finger, working past the burn. "Tell me what it's like to r-ride her."

Phil was watching his moving hand, riveted, and took a few seconds to register Steve's words. "She's… she's the best. Smooth, a soft seat, great curves… great _on_ curves. You saw her in action today. She's the most powerful bike I've ever had between my legs, and I've done my share of riding in the past. Got a taste for it when I got a crush on one of the bad boys in senior year. He rode a standard. Never got to try it myself, but I loved watching him doing tricks. If I sat on the ground close enough, I could feel the vibrations spiking up through my body."

"Vibrations," Steve echoed. He screwed his eyes shut again, getting impatient. "That's enough. I'm ready."

"Are you sure?"

"Phil, I'm gonna explode if I wait any longer. Are _you_ ready?"

"Feel for yourself," Phil said, moving between Steve's legs. Steve watched him, chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. He moved his hand out of the way and braced himself against the wall. He hadn't noticed Phil pull on a condom or slick himself up, but he felt the evidence as Phil pushed in. Gently, at first. Steve pushed his hips forward, encouraging him. Taking the hint, Phil thrust the rest of the way, hard, pinning Steve against the tiles again. Steve groaned, head falling back, and he trembled as Phil continued to move in and out. Each time he sank back in with greater force and speed, and Steve was having trouble keeping his leg up.

"More," he mumbled, tongue feeling heavy. He looped his leg around Phil's lower back, although he continued to shake as the ecstasy built up inside him. Phil dug his nails into Steve's buttocks, hauling him closer, and Steve yelped as he came. He pulled Phil close by the back of his neck, swallowing his curses as Phil finished inside him.

Obligingly, JARVIS turned the shower back on for them, redirecting the warm water so that it poured over them, loosening tight muscles. Phil slowly drew out, and Steve let him go, suddenly bashful. He washed off as Phil disposed of the condom, and then began to dry himself as Phil finished showering.

"Anytime you want to do that again," Phil said, glancing over at Steve, "let me know."

"Will do," Steve said, absently rubbing his behind. The ache would disappear soon… though he hoped not _too_ soon.

"Was it…" He looked up at Phil, who seemed nervous. "Was it just the bike?"

Steve smiled softly. "No. It wasn't just the bike."

* * *

><p><strong>Written for a prompt on the kink meme. I looked up information about motorcycles and motorcycle stunts, and found it hard to follow, so I gave up. I apologise for any inaccuracies. But then I'm a female writing male-male smut, so it's not like experience is entirely necessary. *Face-palms*<strong>

**Please review, m'dears!**


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